


Naked in a Manger

by eirenical (chibi1723)



Category: Cal Leandros - Rob Thurman
Genre: Abuse of History, Gen, Gratuitous Use of Cliched Holiday Traditions, Holidays, Mild Language, Robin has his hands in everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 00:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi1723/pseuds/eirenical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I rolled my eyes.  He'd been going on in this vein ever since he showed up at the bar last night, intent on drinking himself silly.  It wasn't my problem, <i>hadn't</i> been my problem.  Robin was officially Ishiah's problem these days and as much as I owed the guy (and sometimes even liked him, but don't you <i>dare</i> tell him I said so, OK?), I couldn't be happier about it.  So, how the hell did I get stuck babysitting him, today of all days?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naked in a Manger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voleuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/gifts).



> **Title:** Naked in a Manger  
>  **Fandom:** Cal Leandros - Rob Thurman  
>  **Pairing:** gen  
>  **Rating:** PG-13, for strong language  
>  **Warnings:** None. Wow. O_o;;;
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** The _Cal Leandros_ series does not belong to me. OMG, it doesn't belong to me and I can't believe I was presumptuous enough to try to play in Rob Thurman's sandbox… but she seems like a pretty cool lady and I think she would take this story in the spirit it was meant. ^_^
> 
>  ** _December 22, 2012:_** Pinch hit writers who pinch hit without actually signing up for Yuletide are a special breed, I think, giving without expecting anything in return. So, when I saw this request on the "addendum" list for pinch hit writers who hadn't signed up… I just had to jump on it. Because I love Robin, too, and I enjoy the hell out of his stories, especially when he proves himself to be the BAMF he is… while still being quintessentially Robin. I hope I did him justice and that you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

"It's all such utter nonsense, really. All of this," Robin waved his hand over his head to indicate the festively decorated shops, streetlights and bars around us. He made a noise of disgust, "Really, he was a little slip of a boy who got caught up in circumstances he didn't understand and couldn't talk his way out of. Tragic, really." He sighed, "That poor boy. He was so confused, so scared... it wasn't right."

I rolled my eyes. He'd been going on in this vein ever since he showed up at the bar last night, intent on drinking himself silly. It wasn't my problem, _hadn't_ been my problem. Robin was officially Ishiah's problem these days and as much as I owed the guy (and sometimes even liked him, but don't you _dare_ tell him I said so, OK?), I couldn't be happier about it. So, how the hell did I get stuck babysitting him, today of all days?

"...getting bad advice from everyone, and he kept looking to me to help him sort it all out, but who was I in the grand scheme of things? Nobody. I kept telling him, 'Josh, my boy, you're going about this all wrong. Peace. Love! _That's_ the way to enlightenment!' But what's one voice preaching love against all those others preaching war, right Cal?"

Oh, for the love of little green men. Was he still going on? I lifted a hand to my head and started rubbing. That had to be a migraine starting. I'd never had one, but it sure felt like I'd like to take a pickaxe to someone-- oh, wait. No, that's backwards. When you have a migraine it's supposed to feel like someone is taking a pickaxe to _you_. Fuck. I almost wished someone _would_ take a pickaxe to me. How much longer was he going to babble on about this?

I made an abrupt turn, almost hoping to lose him in the holiday crowd, though my dear boss and my even dearer brother -- curse them both -- would chew my ass out for it but good if I managed it. Still... it'd earn me a free hour, at least, before someone figured it out. As I pushed open the shop door, though, Robin was right behind me, still babbling away about this wannabe hippie kid he'd known once upon a time. Hey, don't look at me. I missed the beginning of the story. Uh... and the middle. I was going to miss the end, too, if I had anything to say about it.

Once inside the store -- and Jesus fucking Christ, even the _black market weaponry_ storefront had little wreaths, garlands and blinking lights strewn around everywhere. A casual observer might be getting the wrong impression by now. I'm not a Scrooge or anything. I like Christmas just fine -- well... _now_ I like Christmas just fine. Growing up, Christmas was just another day for Sofia to tell me how much of a mistake I was.... but even she would put up some kind of festive decoration for the customers. No. Christmas wasn't anything special for us back then. Now, though... now it was fine. Niko and I didn't exactly deck our halls with bows of holly, but we did take the night off, cook a meal -- one we _both_ could eat -- and just... hung out.

Of course, Robin -- who was _still_ talking, for fuck's sake, something about how he'd tried to convince the kid to just run off with his girl, Miriam, or this other boy, Judah, or the girl _and_ the boy, (and fuck did _everyone_ buy into Robin's "more sexual partners is better" philosophy back then?) and just live his life, become a shepherd or some nonsense -- threw a big party every year on Christmas. Christmas, New Year's, St. Patrick's Day, even Bad Poetry Day (OK, even I have to admit that that last was kind of fun last year) -- anything was an excuse for a party... and any party was an excuse for an orgy. Niko and I used to stay far the hell away from Robin's parties. Now, though, they were more of the drinking and party games variety than the screw everyone stupid parties. I had my boss to thank for that. So, now, every so often, we'd put in an appearance -- Bad Poetry Day Party, guys. I'm serious. It's a fucking hoot. Apparently, even Shakespeare wrote some clunkers -- who knew? Anyway, Robin's Christmas party was big, over-the-top, the best of everything -- like everything Robin did -- but he'd always get like this a few days before the holiday and this year was my year to listen to it. All day. Lucky me.

Since Niko's present had been the last on my list to pick up -- hey, we might not put up a tree, but everyone likes presents, even badass ninja brothers -- I was now at loose ends until Niko got home later tonight. Robin had paused in his talking for a minute and was now giving me the scariest damned pair of doe eyes I'd ever seen -- scary because he was actually pulling it off. If I hadn't known better, I'd have actually bought into the innocent routine. _Fuck_ that was terrifying. I shook my head and finally bit the bullet. "All right, Goodfellow. What do you want? And **no** , we're not hiking up to Rockefeller Center to look at a damned tree," I hastened to add.

Christ on a crutch -- was he pouting at me? He was pouting at me. I rolled my eyes. Ishiah could take him to see the damned tree. They could get a birds' eye view away from all the damned crowds. I wasn't going near the tangled mess of Midtown with a ten foot fucking pole and you could take that to the bank and cash it.

* * *

"How the fuck did you talk me into this?" I yelled. I had to yell -- right in Robin's damned ear. There was no other way he was going to hear me in this mess. It took everything I had in me not to pull out Niko's shiny new Christmas presents and start poking people with them to get them out of my way. That was _not_ going to put me on anyone's "nice" list... if I cared about that kind of thing. Now that I thought about it, maybe if I just poked a _few_...

Robin turned those doe-eyes on me a second time and I subsided. I didn't know what the hell had gotten into the guy, but after listening to him babble nonstop for almost seven hours, the sudden silence was... fuck, it was unnerving as all hell. Not that I wanted him to start talking, again -- I sure as hell didn't -- but I don't like when people do things that are unexpected. Unexpected means unpredictable and unpredictable is dangerous... and my life has enough danger, thank you very much. When I finally saw where we were heading, though, I dug in my heels. No way. No _fucking_ way. Not going to happen. **Not going to happen.**

* * *

**Fuck.** I don't know who Robin knew or what he offered to get us to the front of the line, but here we were, ice skates on feet, ready to glide off onto the packed ice under the Rockefeller Center tree. What the hell, God? What the fuck did I ever do to you? OK, dumb question. I exist. That's probably plenty, but still... I haven't felt this strong an urge to open a gate and _get the fuck out of a situation_ in-- well, it's been a while, OK? -- but Robin was smiling and he still wasn't talking and it was creeping me the fuck out. So, I did it. I skated. Not very well, mind you. I haven't had much cause to perfect the skill and if I don't need it... why bother?

Robin, of course, was an expert skater. He could skate circles around me... and did. Eventually, he spun around so he was in front of me, skating backwards, smiling encouragement and putting a hand out to catch me every time I wobbled. I snarled him off the first few times, but the third time he saved my ass from landing nose-first into the skate of some other dumb-ass kid who'd already fallen. I was grateful for the save. Hell, even _I'm_ not that big an ass. I took his help after that -- grudgingly, cursing him the whole way -- but I took it.

There was something else, though, too. Something about this, about helping me learn to skate, was bringing Robin out of his funk. He left me against the rink wall for a minute, moved off into the center to do some complicated jump spin thing -- no clue what he did, but even I have to admit it was graceful as all fuck and he did look striking gliding across the ice -- before coming back. His grin was half smirk, typical Robin Goodfellow. You know the type, I'm sure -- "Look at me. Aren't I wonderful? Don't you wish you were me? Don't you wish you could _have_ me? Well you _can't_. Neener, neener, neeeeeeeener." Well, OK, I'm sure Robin had never said "Neener neener neener" in his life, but you get the idea.

I slow clapped for him. He laughed, took the applause at face value and ignored the sarcasm behind it, wrapped his arm around mine and led me back onto the ice. We skated in silence for another few minutes and then, sure enough, Robin started talking again. I sighed, but actually listened for once.

"You're a lot like him, you know? Born into the world for a great purpose that no one ever discussed with you, that no one ever gave you a choice in, and thrown to the wolves when you couldn't fulfill it. You never had a chance to have a childhood -- not a real one, anyway, not one that counts -- and neither did he. The only difference between you..." he trailed off.

I sighed, but waved my hand at him to continue. He smiled and patted my arm, "You have better people looking out for you. And when you pull one of your 'you're better off without me, just let me go' stunts, darling Niko doesn't stand for it and saves you anyway." Robin's smile fell, "I tried. Cal... I really did, but I wasn't enough." He stopped us, then, his hand falling from my arm as that smile rose again -- and it was dark, now, that smile -- full of unholy glee. Fuck. It was hard to remember sometimes, exactly what Goodfellow was capable of, until he reminded you. Well... he was reminding the hell out of me, now. I couldn't help shivering. He said, "I couldn't save him, Cal. I tried, but I couldn't. So, I paid them back. It took years... long, long years, but I brought them down. I brought them _all_ down... and fiddled while I did it."

A moment later, he clapped his hands together and smiled brightly, "I'd say that's probably enough skating, wouldn't you?" Before I could answer, he had grabbed my hand and dragged me over to the side of the rink and skipped lightly over to the lockers to retrieve our shoes and other belongings. As I bent over to undo my laces, he dropped a hand onto my shoulder, then bent until his eyes were level with mine, "Cal... was this... was this good? Did you have fun?"

I wanted to tell him I hadn't. Fuck, I didn't want to encourage him to pull this kind of stuff on me all the time, but there was something more to the question. It was like it really mattered, like this hadn't just been a whim or a prank. He really gave an honest shit about whether or not I'd had fun today. I thought about it for a minute, thought about the things he'd said throughout the day. Something about today was making him remember this other kid -- another kid who I reminded him of... and who, I gathered, hadn't made it -- a kid he'd probably have loved to take skating on Christmas. So, I swallowed my sarcasm -- and it tasted as bitter as it sounds like it would -- and shrugged, "Yeah... it was OK, I guess."

It was the best I could give him, but it was enough. Robin's been around me long enough to translate Cal-speak by now. The smile that blossomed on his face as he squeezed my shoulder was something to see and I couldn't stop myself from smiling right back. He said, simply, "Good. I'm glad."

* * *

The rest of the day was, thankfully, uneventful. I dropped Robin off at the bar to meet up with Ishiah. They had some last minute shopping to do before the party or maybe some last minute screwing -- either way, I just didn't want to know. Robin didn't invite me to the party -- though I half expected him to after today -- and I was glad he didn't put that pressure on me. I'm not sure I could've turned him down and I _really_ didn't want to go. Plus, Niko would have killed me.

When Niko got home, he got to cooking and I "helped" when I could. Every time I added more salt or more pepper or more butter or more anything he would scowl at me, make some comment about me trying to kill us all by elevated cholesterol or something, but he didn't stop me from doing it. He teased me a little, about my day spent with Robin, but I just kept giving him uninformative grunts in reply. I didn't really want to talk about it. Something about the day had thrown me off my game and I just wasn't as fast on the comeback as usual, so rather than risk saying something really lame, I opted to say nothing at all. Hey, the strong, silent vibe worked for my brother -- maybe I'd grow into it. Heh. Fat chance.

My attempt at strong and silent must have been driving my brother batty, though, because eventually Niko stopped what he was doing, put down his mixing spoon and turned to me with an eyebrow raised to say, "OK. You're awfully quiet. What's gotten into you? Puck got your tongue?"

Oh, ha-ha, Cyrano. Very funny. I shrugged, though, not willing to rise to the bait, "I don't know. Just... some things he said. Put me in a weird mood." At Niko's prompting, I spilled the beans, told him about the fucking _weird_ day I'd had, and what little bits of the run-on story I could remember Robin telling. Of course, I remembered the bit at the end pretty well, about him comparing me to this kid, and it was when I hit that part that Niko's eyebrows left their usual spot and climbed up into his hairline.

Niko turned back to the bowl he'd been working on and started furiously stirring it, an odd look on his face. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore and said, "What the hell, Cyrano? You know something I don't?"

My brother laughed then, and tapped my nose with the spoon, smearing spinach dip down my face. Oh... gross. He shook his head, "Do I know _something_ you don't, little brother? I know _plenty_ you don't. But, if you mean do I know something about _this_ that you don't... I think maybe I do that, as well... and I'm still thinking."

We finished our food prep and carried it all out to the living room to put on the coffee table and settled in for our Christmas feast. Once we finished eating and Niko had indulged me in watching our traditional "bad Christmas horror movie of the year," he turned to me and said, "I can almost see it, you know."

There was a smile hovering around Niko's lips that I didn't much like, but I asked anyway, "Can almost see what, Cyrano?"

He tilted his head this way and that, finally nodded his head and smirked, "You naked in a manger. That would make for some interesting Christmas decorations, don't you think?"

I spluttered at him, but Niko wouldn't give me any more than that other than to tell me that I was smart enough to figure it out on my own and if I wasn't, I didn't deserve his enlightenment. I wheedled at him all through our gift exchange -- a new brace of throwing daggers for Niko and a new pair of guns for me, _man_ I love Christmas -- but he still wasn't having it. I bullied him into a glass of eggnog at midnight, but even mildly liquered up, he wouldn't say anything. He _did_ however, pull me into a tight hug before going to bed and say, "Don't worry about it. You're not going to end like that if I have anything to say about it... and I intend to _always_ have a say about it."

I stayed up after Niko went to bed, surfed the channels for a while, cursed at the lack of good programming -- I mean... did _every_ station have to be playing Rudolph or It's a Wonderful Life? -- and eventually turned it off and started thinking. What _had_ Robin babbled about all day? Some hippie kid named Josh who'd been born for some grand destiny or other and was getting bad advice left and right from people who were supposed to be on his side. He was in love with a girl... or a guy -- fuck, I didn't remember -- but wouldn't actually hook up with either one of them. And in the end he'd gotten killed because of some stupid martyr complex and no one standing up to tell him it was a bad idea other than Robin. And Robin had gotten back at the people who'd killed him.

I shook my head. Sounded a bit like the plot to the musical "Hair," actually -- except for the revenge bit at the end. What? I dated a girl who liked musicals and they revived it a couple of years back and I took her to see it. I have _layers_. And, no, I wasn't just in it to see the naked people. Christ you have a dirty... mind... wait.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me. I pulled my ass off the couch and wandered over to the bookshelves to pull down a couple of the tomes. A half hour later, I had my answer. And... no way. No fucking way. Just... _no fucking **way**_. I'd picked up the phone and dialed Robin's number before I even realized what I was doing.

He answered on the third ring and I felt justified in screaming in his ear, again, as I could hear the party loud and clear even through the phone, "You did not spend all day telling me that you brought about the collapse of the Roman Empire to pay them back for killing Jesus Christ because he was your fucking hippie disciple! _Tell me_ that's not what you said." Because if that was true, then Robin had also spent all day telling me that I _fucking reminded him of Jesus_... and that just... that would totally ruin my badass mental self-image.

And Robin -- that smug bastard -- just laughed and said, "Merry Christmas to you, too, Caliban."


End file.
